Just One Night
by Jael K
Summary: When Team Legends returns to Central City for Barry and Iris' wedding, Sara jumps at a chance to do something, anything, else. She doesn't even remotely suspect where that decision will lead her. (Or to whom.) Captain Canary. Of course.
1. You Won't Save Me Anymore

Sara isn't really a wedding person.

Oh, she's thrilled for Barry and Iris. She is. Really, truly happy for them, especially given what she's heard about timeline changes and evil future Barry and Iris sort of coming back from the dead. (Something she figures she knows a thing or two about, albeit in a different way.) But that still doesn't mean that she wants to go to their wedding and smile and act like she wants to catch the bouquet and lie about her job and turn down offers to dance...

The idea of the singles table, she thinks with a sigh, leaves her cold.

The whole Waverider crew is invited, although Amaya and Nate don't even know the couple in question. Sara thinks Mick's actually a bit touched by the invite, although he demurs in favor of staying to keep an eye on the ship. Amaya promptly volunteers to do so too, which means that Nate (with whom she recently went through a quiet, relatively non-messy breakup) promptly decides he _is_ going to the wedding.

Sara, who's decided that captain's duties do not mean any sort of keeping tabs on who's sleeping with whom on the ship, accepts all three decisions without comment.

Ray and Stein and Jax, of course, all eagerly start making plans. During a brief stop back in 2017 London, they get Gideon to send RSVPs for the three of them, with Stein making a quick call to Clarissa and Lily to deliver the news. (Ray tries not to look too eager; Sara rolls her eyes.)

And against her better judgment, she accepts too.

They park in the outskirts of Central City on the morning of the wedding, giving the five of them time to make their way to meet the members of Teams Flash and Arrow at STAR Labs for a brief get-together before they have to start pretending to be ordinary, everyday people and not Legends and heroes.

Iris is radiant as she greets them; Barry is beaming as he shakes hands and accepts hugs. Sara notices that his gaze slides off hers at first and wonders why he's looking so guilty, but then Cisco is bouncing up and down in front of her, asking about their recent adventures... and she allows herself to be distracted.

Iris and Caitlin have some time before they have to whisk off to start the process of hair and makeup with Iris' other attendants, those not "in the know," as Cisco intones solemnly. The group of them gather with takeout and drinks right there in the Cortex, chatting and telling stories, and making Barry blush whenever possible. Felicity, perhaps predictably, proves to be the best at it, with helpful additions from Thea. (Iris doesn't blush. Iris simply promises to get even. Sara believes her.)

Sara is disappointed to learn that Team Arrow hadn't realized that she, and the other Legends, were going to make it, meaning that her father had elected to stay back in Star City and "hold the fort." She resolves to visit before they leave, turning a piece of pizza crust over and over in her fingers and wondering just why she agreed to this whole thing.

Another voice, though, breaks into her reverie.

"I just hope," Joe West says, taking a long sip of coffee, "that all hell doesn't break loose here."

Iris mock-glares at him, Barry looks horrified, and Cisco and Felicity immediately start making hissing noises and holding up the sign against the evil eye. Joe just rolls his eyes and continues.

"Well," he says, "no one realizes it except the folks in this room, but the Flash is not going to be doing _any_ hero-ing tonight. 'Cause he's marrying my little girl. " He pauses to eye Barry, who looks a trifle abashed. "And a good many of the city's cops are going to be here too. I'd just feel better if we had one person who could do a little patrol. In case of metas or..."

He gives Barry a _look_ , but Sara, relief flooding through her, doesn't see that.

"I can do that," she says, putting down her drink. "Really. Please. Let it be my wedding gift to you. I'm feeling restless … and, hey, Nate didn't RSVP anyway, so it's just like he's taking my spot."

Barry protests. Iris tells her it isn't necessary. Oliver looks like he'd wished he'd had the same idea himself. Cisco looks disappointed. And Jax takes one long look at her and then quietly backs her up, quickly followed by Stein, Nate, and Ray.

Which is why she's here. Skulking quietly through the streets and rooftops of Central City, back in black (a tactical outfit, rather than leather) for once, as white tends to show up dramatically in the dusk and dark.

A November wedding makes for an early sunset, so the city is already shrouded in shadow. Sara rather likes it that way, really. She does a little roof-running for old times' sake, enjoying the freedom and the feeling of physical activity, then pauses to look at the cathedral where the West-Allen wedding ceremony should just about be winding up.

She's happy for them. Really, she is.

Mick and Amaya, back at the Waverider, have agreed to keep an ear out for Sara's comm, but she has no intention of calling upon them unless there's an emergency, all too cognizant that she might be interrupting something. She also knows that she can call upon the others if there's need, but she doesn't think it will be necessary.

Her presence out here is merely a precaution. She thinks.

Barry, already in a tux and looking equal parts excited and nervous, had found her as she carefully checked all her weapons and the comm, getting ready to head out into the city as he and the others headed off to the church.

"I..." His voice trailed off; he fidgeted a little. Sara lifted an eyebrow at him. "Well. There's a big exhibit right now at the Central City Museum. Pottery and ceramics, worth a lot more than they look like, trust me.

"It might..." He trailed off again, looking like he's choosing his words carefully for no reason that Sara, impatient, can see. "Well. It might be a target. Maybe keep an eye on it." A sideways glance. "Just... ah, well, be careful... I mean... you never know who..."

"I'm not an assassin anymore," she told him shortly, pulling her gloves on. "I'm not going to leave a string of bodies in your city, Barry. No worries." She'd been pretty sure she hadn't kept the merest whisper of hurt from her tone, but she also didn't much care.

"No!" Barry held his hands up as if in defense. "No, I didn't mean it like that at all." He sighed. "Really. Just… be careful."

Sara relented, giving him a small smile. "I always am." She patted his arm and motioned to where Cisco, the best man, had wandered into the Cortex, clearly looking for the missing groom. "Congratulations. And tell Iris the same. I'll keep your city safe." _His_ city, she thinks, unable to restrain the thought any longer. Yes, Leonard would have approved.

Barry had given her a tiny smile in return, almost as if he'd heard the thought. "Thank you, Sara. And…thank you."

It's full dark out now, and at the church, there will be a receiving line started. Or maybe people will have started moving on to the reception. Sara shakes her head, turning slowly from her position atop one of the city's older buildings, one on which a perching Canary actually has to share space with a few gargoyles. The city is fairly quiet; the only sirens so far have been for perfectly ordinary DWIs and traffic infractions. It's probably too early to find much trouble down near the club district.

Well. Barry had seemed to be fixated on the new museum exhibit. Maybe she should check that out.

The museum, a large building that takes up an entire city block, is dark and quiet. Sara notes the positions of video cameras as she moves around it, unseen. She might be an assassin rather than a crook (her mind tries to shy away from the words; she ruthlessly doesn't let it), but she can case a building with the best of them. Assassins do breaking and entering, too.

So when she gets to the south side of the building and notices one of the cameras, just one, with the usual green "on" light muted, it trips every warning bell she has.

Of course the door nearest that camera opens when she tries it. And of course it leads directly into an unloading area for the traveling exhibits, so that the pieces don't have to be paraded through the entire museum.

She ghosts through the dark room, noticing that the video camera there is still and dark, too. There's a tiny crack of light at the far end, from what is presumably the main exhibit room itself. She moves toward it, starting to shake her bo down into her hand, but rethinks it at the idea of a room full of fragile, precious pottery.

She also has a gun in a thigh holster, but she chooses to ready a few throwing knives instead. More precise, at least in the right hands.

And then she takes a deep breath, pushes the door open, and moves inside.

It's a long, narrow room, and the end she's at is at least semi-lit. However, the other end is dark…and while it's quite difficult to see the tall figure standing there, apparently studying a piece sitting on a plinth, Sara has no trouble at all picking it out.

For a moment, she considers simply stepping back through the door. Whatever this is, it's not a threat to the city, not really, nor a threat to the people there. Just some old pottery, and a crook out to make a few bucks.

She'll never know, fully, what stops her. What makes her take one silent step, then two, toward the other end of the room and order "Don't move!"

The black-clad figure freezes, but Sara is already taking in details, the tall, lean profile, the faint gleam of silver in short-cropped hair, the sense of a feline strength.

And her heart stutters, because it isn't, it can't be…

She's just close enough to the intake of breath, the long release of that breath.

"I should have known this would happen," the figure murmurs to itself, or himself. And he straightens, turns, and steps out of the shadows.

"Hello, Sara," says Leonard Snart.


	2. Steal the Sun from the Sky for You

It's melodramatic to say that the world tilts around her, but that's precisely what it feels like. Sara puts a hand to the wall as if checking to see that it's still there, that she's not dreaming, that she's not going to wake up in a moment, stomach and heart clenched with a pain she can't show.

It _is_ there, cool and solid beneath her fingers, and that's all the moment of weakness she gives herself. And then her gun is in her hand, aimed straight for his heart, and if her hands are shaking just the tiniest bit, well, she knows she can compensate for that.

"Don't move," she repeats, keeping her voice cold, without a quaver. "I _will_ fire."

Leonard tilts his head just a little and regards her for a moment that feels like forever.

"Ah," he says, finally. "Right." Slowly, he raises his hands in front of him, eyes never leaving hers, and they're not that _rat bastard_ 's eyes, there's actually warmth in them and concern... "The last time you saw me, it was _that_ me."

"What are you talking about?" She knows her voice is harsh, but that's better than letting it break.

"I remembered, after I..." His voice trails off as he watches her, frustration in those so-very _Leonard_ eyes. And then he takes a step forward.

"I said, _don't move_." She tightens her finger on the trigger, heart beating so hard she figures they both can hear it.

He stops stock still again, watching her. Those _eyes_.

"What would convince you?" he asks slowly. "That I'm not the same person who was with the Legion? Well, in a way…"

The words send a chill through her. "You remember…"

He glances away for the first time, a frown on his face, but one that seems to be directed mostly inward. "Yeah." The word is curt, pained. "There's not really time to get into that right now."

It's the edge of actual feeling in the words, feeling that she's not sure that earlier Leonard even possessed, that has her, almost against her will, lowering the gun the tiniest amount. He sees it, and lifts his eyes to hers again, and it's like a body blow.

"Sara, it's _me_. The Waverider. Savage. Gin. The goddamned _Oculus_." He takes a deep breath, repeats it. "It's me."

She stares at him and then slowly, slowly lowers the gun, studying him as she does so.

"You don't have the cold gun."

"You took it with you at the Oculus. And I haven't talked Ramon into making me a new one yet." A shrug. "I'm working on that."

And oddly, the casual name drop finally convinces her.

The question explodes out of her. " _How_?"

Leonard takes another step closer to her, then another when she doesn't raise the gun again.

"Barry pulled some..." He pauses, apparently to consider his words, then shrugs. "...timeline fuckery to undo Iris' death. And while he was doing whatever he was doing in the Speed Force, Time Force, what have you, he found... me." He spreads his hands out before him. "Last I remembered, I'd been at the Oculus, so finding myself sprawling on the floor of STAR Labs was a bit disconcerting."

He takes a deep breath. "Can we get out of here? I'll even be a good boy and not take anything, but the window to get out safely is closing." A smirk. "I'll just have to get Barry and Iris something else."

"You were going to _steal_ them a wedding gift?" But Sara takes a step backward toward the door, then another, turning as Leonard falls into step beside her. If she's going to trust him, she thinks as her skin prickles, she might as well commit.

"It seemed... fitting. I kept pointing out that they didn't bother registering for a china pattern and that there was this _lovely_ exhibit in town right now, and wouldn't they like a one-of-a-kind present..."

Her laugh is disbelieving. This whole thing is surreal. "How the hell do you know what Barry and Iris registered for?"

"They talk. Everyone at STAR Labs, they talk, talk, talk." Humorous annoyance in his drawl. "Except for Wells. He's all right." He pauses to hold the door to the storage room for her, closing it carefully behind them. "The camera thing is temporary. We have another three minutes with those, by my count. Just... wait..." He stops at the door to the outside, messing around with the darkened alarm panel she now sees by the door, then tilting his head toward it again. "When I restart this, we have just a minute to get out and looking like nice, everyday citizens before the security guard for this section strolls by. OK?"

She nods, he taps something, the panel lights up again...

And then they move quietly out the door and across the blessedly traffic-free street, slowing their steps to a casual stroll, just two people who happen to be dressed all in black, no breaking-and-entering going on _here_ , folks.

They walk in silence in a few moments, then Leonard clears his throat and tips his head toward the park that runs along the sidewalk they're using. Sara nods, and they turn off into it, moving through the trees, still wordless.

Leonard seems to be looking for something; after a few minutes, he finds it: a playground set, its bright primary-colored plastic a bit weather beaten, but still cheery, even in the moon's dim light. It's deserted at the moment, and he waves a hand at a bench at the area's edge.

Sara isn't quite ready to sit down yet, through. Instead, she leans back against a tree nearby, feeling as if she can use the support, and watches him shrug and proceed to hold up the maple opposite her.

For a minute, they just watch each other.

"The thing, with Iris… that was months ago," Sara says finally. "You've been…back…all this time?"

"Sort of." He shrugs, with that sort of ingrained insouciance she's so unexpectedly missed. "I'd no sooner picked myself up off the floor to ask Barry what the hell was going on, when I found myself hitting it again." A wry twist of the lips. "Apparently, I was getting hit with memories that had been— _masked_ was Ramon's word—for a few years and it hurts when the 'neutral pathways' get rewritten." He nods at her expression. "Yeah. Tell the Nerd Squad that a considerable dose of temporal energy can undo their little gadget's work. And it's not pretty."

"I'll do that."

"Good." Distaste drips from his tone. "They had me sedated in the freakin' basement for a while. Ramon thinks the temporal energy itself was a big problem. I was…raving." He glances away, then back at her. "Anyway. Moving on."

Sara stares at the silhouette of his features, only barely visible in the dim light at the other end of the playground, wondering at everything he didn't say. "Why didn't you send word? Why didn't Barry tell us?"

Another long pause.

Finally: "Because I didn't want you to know."

His voice is flat, emotionless, an abrupt departure from the wry tone he's been using. And that, and the words, are the kick in the gut that Sara finally needs to snap out of the haze of shock and surprise.

She takes one step, two, three, until she's close enough to touch him, to slap him or haul off and slug him, like she's so tempted to do. But she doesn't. She knows Leonard Snart, or she did, or thought she did. She could kill him in a heartbeat and bury the pain if she needs to to protect her people, but she'll never use casual violence on him to make a point.

He's known too much of that.

But it doesn't stop her from reaching up and grabbing two fistfuls of his coat, that damned black leather jacket he'd been wearing at the Oculus, balling them up in her hands, and yanking him down just far enough to give him a good shake.

"You _jerk_."

He blinks at her, and she'd be amused at his just-slightly wide-eyed expression if she wasn't so goddamned _mad_.

"Do you know how much…" I. "…the team mourned you? It might have happened quietly, but there was so much going on and... Leonard, we should have at least _known_. Even if you didn't want to return to the ship, if you wanted to abandon us..." _Not_ the word she'd meant to use. "...it would have helped so much just to _know_."

She thinks of something else and gives him an extra little shake, fingers curling in the soft black leather, staring up into blue eyes that are dark in the low light. "And Mick! He was your friend, and he felt so guilty. I didn't even realize the toll it'd taken on him until recently and... and I should have, but..."

 _But I felt guilty, too_.

In her anger, her rush to get the words out without giving too much away, she hadn't realized until just now how close they are. She can feel the warmth of him, right there, only inches away, and if she tilts her head just a little and goes up on her toes a little more, their noses will brush...

Something in those dark eyes tells her that Leonard is not unaware of this.

Before either one of them can make a decision on what to do about that, a police siren from altogether too damned close makes them both jump. Sara lets go of Leonard's jacket and takes a step backward, and he gives himself a little shake to resettle his jacket and gives her an indignant, ruffled look that, oddly, makes her smile.

"Really?" he asks, and that damned drawl is back. "After what happened with the Legion?" He nods as her smile turns to a frown. "I saw how you looked at me in there." A glance away. "And I don't blame you."

" _Leonard_. We both know that people change. I was just... surprised." A sudden thought occurs to her and she turns to glare vaguely in the direction of the reception hall. "Barry Allen, you _asshole_."

"Ooh oh. What did the Scarlet Speedster do now?" Leonard's voice is lightly taunting again as he follows her gaze.

"He knew you might be there. At the museum, at _that_ exhibit, tonight. And he specifically told me about it. And didn't _**warn**_ me."

She sees Leonard frown again, hears him mutter something that might almost be "matchmaker." (Surely not...) But her own thoughts and another siren nearby have reminded her that she has a mission out here, and she's not getting it done arguing with a mysteriously resurrected crook.

"Come on."

She can feel Leonard's eyes on her back (OK, maybe not her _back_ ) as she turns and starts walking away, but as she'd hoped, after only a second, he starts following her.

"Are we going somewhere?" comes the slightly sarcastic drawl.

"I said I'd keep an eye on things during the wedding. I'm not doing that standing here. Bike I borrowed is parked about a block from here. Is yours around?"

A pause. "An alley off McPartland," he admits.

"I think I know where that is." She takes a deep breath, turns to look at him. (Nope, _definitely_ not her back.) "I could use your help." She points at him. "And you're definitely not off the hook yet for this 'didn't want you to know' shit. Meet you at McPartland and Johnson?"

Len's expression seems a trifle nonplussed, but he immediately nods. "Inside 10 minutes."

"Great."

* * *

Leonard's not sure, really, why he so promptly agrees to Sara's plan to enlist him in this mad "watch over Central City" thing.

That's certainly not in his job description, no matter how much Barry goes on about "sacrifice" and "heroes" and "I knew you had it in you, Snart." He may be spending a lot of time with Team Flash (so silly) these days, but that's more to do with the fact that they're the only ones who have any idea what's happened to him…and a life of crime, wedding gifts notwithstanding, doesn't seem to have quite the same shine these days. It's not that he's actually a hero himself, or anything.

Walking back to where he'd left his bike, though, he sighs. Oh, who the hell is he kidding? Having set eyes on Sara Lance for the first time in…well, it feels like months to him…he's not at all inclined to take his eyes off her. At all. Not even for the handful of minutes it's taking them to obtain their transportation and meet up again.

He isn't sure if he's going to ice Barry for this, or shake the man's hand. Maybe both.


	3. Can't Buy Back Yesterday

Sara's waiting for him at the specified meeting point right on time, perched on a sleek yellow machine he recognizes as belonging to Wally West. He frowns at the helmet tucked under her arm; she rolls her eyes at him, but puts it on, hiding her bright hair just as effectively as the hood on her gear.

"I don't interfere if the cops are already there, not unless they really need help or there's something weird about it," she tells him. "City seems pretty quiet tonight, but I just saw a bunch of black-and-whites rush through; I want to see what that is. Then maybe head over to the club district. There's always trouble there, somewhere."

Leonard nods. " 'No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men,' " he quotes, shrugging at her stare. "What? I _do_ pay attention."

Given how late it'd been that "night" on the ship, even given Waverider time, and how much of Rip's rum they'd consumed, he wouldn't be all that surprised if she didn't remember telling him that so many months before. But he remembers just about everything he's ever learned about Sara Lance.

Sara watches him in silence a few seconds more (a gaze he meets in equal silence), then shakes her head. "Just one second," she tells him, then taps her comm, gaze turning inward.

"Mick! Sorry I didn't check in sooner. No, everything's…fine. No, seriously, I just forgot." A smile. "Knock it off. All clear from where you are? Uh huh? And you're not _too_ distracted?" She laughs out loud at the response as Leonard raises an eyebrow. "OK, good. Talk to you later."

She taps the comm again and looks back at him, a long look that it doesn't take that much to interpret.

"No," he says.

There's a flash of anger, again, in Sara's eyes. "He's your oldest friend. And he... it hit him hard. When you died, or we thought you did. It would mean so much...don't let the last thing he remembers be that rat bastard you used to be."

Leonard can't argue with that. He doesn't even really try.

"Look," he says wearily. "If Mick knows I'm here, he'll expect to come back here. Pick up right where we left off. I can't do that. And he's... Mick could be a lot more. More than my firebug partner."

He's never told anyone that he retains a few scraps of memory of the things he'd seen in the Time Force, but he knows this, knows it as well as he knows that Barry and Iris need to tie the knot as soon as possible and that Earth-2 Harrison Wells needs to stay on Earth-1.

This is what he needs to do to give Mick that shot at _more_.

"Len. He already _is_. Maybe you should trust him?" Sara's eyes are sadder, now, but she shakes her head. "Gideon's been monitoring the police scanners, so they would have known if that earlier call had been anything we needed to check out. So... club district?"

"I know it." Len offers her a small smile. "Good place to pick pockets."

He gets a small smirk in return. "I bet. Well, I'm not worried about small-time petty crooks." The smirk grows just a touch as he snorts. "Just want to make sure people are safe. Since the bigger fish and metas seem to be quiet tonight."

Leonard thinks about the "quiet word" he had with a few of the Central City bosses about this particular night, his actual wedding present to Barry and Iris. Captain Cold might not be Central City's most active crook anymore, but he can still intimidate the hell out of all the wanna-bes. "Hmm. Indeed they do." Then, as her gaze grows sharper, he dodges back to what he'd tried to avoid before. "Sara. There are reasons..."

"And I don't want to know them now." She looks away, but he sees the flicker of hurt. "Like I said, I have a job to do. We'll talk later."

She starts her bike then, requiring him to just about shout to be heard over the engine. Which he does: "Promise?"

He waits until he sees her nod before he starts his, too.

* * *

It's ridiculous, really, dragging Leonard along with her like this. Not that he seems all that reluctant to be dragged, but… Sara can't stop a sigh as she hurtles along in the Central City night, painfully aware of the blue motorcycle, and its rider, keeping pace behind her.

At some point, the anger at his unwillingness to tell anyone about his survival has changed, solidified into a solid ball of hurt that feels like it's lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. She's still furious with Barry for the lack of a warning… but if he hadn't steered her toward that museum, would she ever have known at all?

She doesn't want to deal with it, but she doesn't want to see him walk away either, so this seems like the only answer.

Not that it's a _good_ answer.

The club district also seems quiet, like so much of the city on this lovely fall evening. (And Sara has certain speculations about that, given Len's attempted distraction before.) Still, there are still people out and about, happy and carefree in a way she hasn't been in years, and if she can make sure some of them remain that way… well, that's a good thing.

They leave the bikes locked together in a tiny alleyway, tucked away behind a dumpster. Len, stowing his helmet, eyes her as she does the same.

"I don't have my gun, you remember," he drawls. "Don't know how much good I'll be to you."

There's something just this side of innuendo in his tone and words, and Sara finds herself smiling against her will at the sheer familiarity of it. "Oh, I don't know," she retorts, eyeing him up and down. "I've seen you fight. You're a brawler. You'll be fine."

Is that a flicker of surprise in his eyes? But he rolls with it. "So, what does this… vigilante hero… gig entail?" A raised eyebrow. "Last I knew, it _still_ didn't pay well, but are we just going to stroll down the street, looking for trouble? Because that's not really my style."

"I thought _trouble_ was always your style?" But Sara grins at him… and then, taking a step back, reaches up just enough to catch the edge of a fire escape, pulling the ladder down to the ground and taking one step up onto it.

Leonard stares at her, and _damn_ , if his expression isn't satisfying.

"No," he repeats, but this time it sounds more like a plea.

"Yes." She climbs another rung, then another, watching him. "Come on, an overheard view is the best way to keep an eye and an ear on as much as possible."

"I changed my mind."

"Uh huh." Three more rungs. "Come on, Leonard. You owe me for not kicking your ass."

He's standing at the bottom of the ladder now, and his expression defines _long_ - _suffering_. "At the museum?"

" _Ever_." She's at the first landing now, watching him, taking the first step onto the next ladder. "Move it, Len."

He moves it.

She's been at the top of the building, standing at the edge and looking out at the city, for a few minutes by the time he reaches the top of the fire escape—dragging his feet more to make a point than because of any inability, Sara thinks. Hearing his footsteps, she waits a few moments, then spins to look down at him, ready with a jibe…

Only to have it knocked clear out of her head by the look on his face.

Leonard Snart is looking at her like… like she's the sun, and he never expected to see daylight again.

* * *

Sara'd turned around just a little bit sooner than he'd expected her to.

Leonard tries to pull the Cold mask back into place, or at least the somewhat lesser version that's all he's ever really managed around Sara. He's not sure he entirely manages, but neither does he manage to look away.

When he'd gained the top of the fire escape, he'd had a snarky comment ready to go. Something about canaries and perches and heroes and drama and… the sight of her had chased it completely out of his head.

She'd been standing, poised and alert, just the smallest amount of profile in view and the bright flag of her hair streaming out behind her, and even in the black tactical gear, she's so beautiful it takes his breath away. But that's not even all it is, that feeling that had hit him like a kick to the gut there on that rooftop.

He's been carrying on, here in Central City. Pretending that he's content, if occasionally annoyed, with his lot—pestering Team Flash, keeping tabs on the various elements that have taken control (or tried) here on his turf, even trying to make sense of the fragments of his Time Force visions and what he can do to make them come true (or avoid them).

But somehow, it's not really home, not anymore. Something's missing.

He's pretended he doesn't know what it is, even to himself. But standing there, looking at Sara... he knows.

Oh, he knows.


	4. You Know My Hands Are Dirty

Leonard's failed miserably at controlling his expression, and the look on Sara's face confirms it. She looks uncertain, suddenly, a look he's seen on her so very rarely, but she steps down from her perch toward him, taking one step, then another, as she studies him. The rest of the city seems very far away, suddenly, the noise almost hushed, and he thinks she's waiting for him to speak...

He's abruptly terrified, something he hasn't felt in a very long time... or at least since that last night on the Waverider when, shuffling a deck of cards from hand to hand, he'd paced the halls for an hour before finding his way to her room.

"I saw things. In the Time Force," he blurts out in distraction, a move that's so uncharacteristic it shocks him. "Like Mick and the sort of future he could have. Other things. That's one of the reasons I asked Barry not to contact the Waverider or tell anyone on the team. They can't know yet."

Sara blinks at him, but recovers quickly. "But _I_ do. Doesn't that count?"

"You weren't in that particular vision. Mick was... so were Jax and Stein, as Firestorm... and a woman with a necklace and some sort of animal powers..."

"Amaya." Well, at least the distraction is working, based on the tone of Sara's voice. "She's actually the one back at the Waverider with Mick now."

"Oh, really?" So much easier to fall back on snark. "Well, that explains a few things. Where's she from?"

"The 1940s." Sara waves a hand at his expression. "It's complicated. But why do you think Mick can't see you until this vision comes true?"

"Like I said. If he does, it won't happen. Same with those others, because I _saw_ them finding out about me, in the vision. And you know Raymond, it's not like he'll keep his mouth shut if he finds out." He meets her eyes briefly. "You, I trust."

The atmosphere's just on the verge of getting a bit too highly charged again when Sara glances away.

"So, did you see _me_?" she asks casually before glancing back. "In the Time Force? At all?"

Well, that was inevitable.

"No," he says, looking at a point just off to the right, avoiding her eyes. "Sorry. If I did, I don't remember. I've forgotten a lot of it, I think."

* * *

He's lying. She knows it. She's pretty sure he knows she knows it.

But she hasn't decided whether to call him on it (or ignore it in favor of the myriad other questions she has) when a quickly stifled shriek from the alley on the opposite side of the building interrupts them. It's a type of cry, tinged with pure panic, that Sara has heard a good many times before, and she's reacting before the sound fully dies from the air.

She whirls and races for the edge, vaulting over in one smooth motion and reaching, as she does, for the matching fire escape just long enough to check her momentum, following that with similar moves with a windowsill, a drain pipe, a recycling tote.

She lands neatly, and the three men, one of whom has his hand over the mouth of a terrified-looking young woman, all gape at her a minute before the two with their hands free laugh and start for her. Sara takes a step back, eyeing them and noting how they grin as, she thinks, they decide she's easy prey. They move like fighters with experience... but nothing like her.

They don't really know what hits them.

The big redhead hits the ground after a neat jab to his throat; the smaller blond takes a swing, but she dodges it easily, and a hard kick to his kneecap quickly sends him sprawling, howling in pain. Sara keeps her eyes on them only long enough to be sure they're staying down, then looks back at the other man and his prisoner.

From the state of the woman's feet—shoeless and with filthy heels—he'd grabbed her elsewhere and dragged her back here, but Sara now notes fury in the brown eyes, and the way she's still actively struggling against the grip. The man holding her, however, is far too large for her to break away from without training.

Well. That's why Sara's here.

The man frowns at his compatriots, then cuts his cold gaze back to her.

"This doesn't concern you," he growls. "Bitch has it coming."

Sara doesn't bother answering. She just smiles and takes another step toward him.

With another growl, he releases his intended prey, giving the woman—girl, really-a vicious shove away from him and starting toward Sara. She pauses only long enough to advise "It's OK. Run!" and then it's time to concentrate on the fight.

He knows what he's about, more than the other two. But he's no match for a League-trained assassin, and Sara's mostly toying with him, dodging and blocking, her main concern how to take him out without doing too much damage. (Some, she figures, he has coming to him.)

At least until his eyes flick over her shoulder and he smiles...

Then there's another man, running down the alley, drawing a gun as he gets closer... only to run straight into Leonard's fist as the crook drops the last few feet down from the fire escape.

The incident has the added benefit of distracting her opponent, too, and Sara takes advantage of that to roll her eyes and drive her knee into his crotch, sending him whimpering to the ground, where she follows it up with a precise tap to the temple with her boot. Then she turns to lift an eyebrow at Leonard in a clear "what took you so long?"

"Sorry for the delay," he tells her, just a touch of humor in the tone. " _I_ can't fly."He studies the unconscious men at her feet, then lifts his gaze again, a familiar look sparking in it. "I'd nearly forgotten how much I like to watch you fight."

The innuendo is back, but then it's always come easily to them. Flush with adrenaline, she grins at him. "Well, at least I know you'll always be watching my...back."

"It's a nice... back." He pokes the redhead with the toe of a boot, shaking his head as the man whimpers. "What'll we do with these losers?"

But Sara's already on it. "Mick," she says into her comm, "get on the dedicated line Barry set up to the CCPD, tell them they have a pickup at an alley on Haynes Street, down toward the seedier end. 'Flash special.' Intended victim is gone, but I expect they'll have plenty on these guys." She smiles again. "And apologize to Amaya for me. Hope that moment wasn't too…inconvenient."

She chortles as she taps the comm off again, looking back over at Leonard, who looks slightly nonplussed by her words and their implications. Still, he rebounds with a shrug.

"So, we should get out of here," he points out. "Barry cleared my record, but cops… me… probably not good…"

"Right." Sara looks up at the fire escape and then smirks at him. Leonard sighs, but smirks back… and waves a hand at the roof.

"Lead on… Canary."

* * *

They linger, for a while, keeping an eye and an ear on the area. Sara makes a couple of vaults onto the nearby buildings for a better view, while Leonard stays on their original perch and makes snarky comments at her.

Which is no more than she expects.

She can't quite wipe the smile off her face for some reason, she thinks, as she lands back on the original building (with perhaps a just little more of a flourish than she needs) and starts walking back to where Leonard is waiting, in his characteristic lean, against a raised vent.

"Still quiet," she says. "And Mick says the same." She raises an eyebrow at him. "You know anything about why that might be?"

Smirk. "Nope," he drawls, raking his eyes over her. "Nothing at all."

"Bullshit." But her comment is fond, and when she takes up her own place leaning against the vent, their shoulders are touching. They stand a while, listening to the sounds of the city around them.

Eventually, Leonard clears his throat, and Sara glances up at him, studying his profile in the moonlight.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Excuse me?"

Leonard looks down at her, and his expression is sober, his eyes steady and fixed on hers.

"About your sister," he says. "Barry told me."

It's been a while, for her, but it's still a kick in the gut. Sara closes her eyes momentarily, then opens them. "Thank you."

She feels Leonard shift next to her, although she's not looking at him. "No way to …?" he says, tentatively.

"No."

"Damn." Silence again. A distant gale of laughter rises from the street, a group of young women out for a bachelorette or just a night of fun, the sound dying away as a distant ambulance siren rises.

Finally, Sara speaks again, leaning into him just a little more, encouraged as he doesn't move away. "What about your own sister? Bet she's glad you're back."

Silence.

After a long moment, she turns and looks up at him. "Seriously?"

Leonard studiously avoids looking at her. "It's sort of like with Mick. If she knows…"

Sara can't help herself. She grabs his arm, loosening the grip almost immediately but maintaining the contact as his startled eyes meet hers. "Leonard…Len. You _need_ to tell her. Trust me on this one." She laughs a little, a humorless sound. "I've been there. I don't know what you think will happen…"

Somewhat to her surprise, he doesn't pull away… and although he glances away again, he almost immediately looks back at her. When he speaks, his voice is low and intense "I saw her, Sara. In the Time Force. And she looked _happy_. I can't tell you the last time I saw her look that happy." He shakes his head roughly. "I can't do anything to mess with that. I _can't_."

The anguish there is undeniable. Sara swallows, then, gently, reaches out and puts her free hand on his chest, over his heart. She feels Leonard flinch, just slightly, but he doesn't otherwise move away, and they stand there and stare at each other as the city moves around them.

"Why is it you think telling her will jeopardize that?" Sara asks quietly. "Seems to me she'd be happiest if she knew you were OK." She shakes her head. "Take it from me. It's a sorrow that never goes away. If she was as happy as you say, in this vision…"

"I'd think it's that my absence would let her make a fresh start." Bitterness there, in his tone, and perhaps something a little more…lost. Sara's fingers tighten on the fabric under her hand, then relax. She can feel his warmth, the steady beat of his heart.

"There's nothing keeping her from doing that anyway. Or Mick. Stop giving yourself so much credit, Leonard." Her tone purposefully turns toward teasing. "You're only responsible for _you_. And I happen to think you're not so bad."

That gets a half smile. It doesn't last long, though, and he shakes his head as he speaks one word.

"Legion."

But Sara is having none of it. "People change, Leonard. And that's not you anymore." She smiles as he peers at her. "Yeah, I'm using your own words against you."

He snorts, but the half smile is back. Sara is abruptly aware, again, of how close they're standing. But neither of them is inclined to move.

"Give yourself a break, Len," she tells him quietly. "You don't have to punish yourself to give everyone else their chance. Move forward. It's OK."

He's definitely smiling now. "That so… captain?"

"Consider it an order." She smiles back. "Barry told you about that?"

"Mmhmm. Like I said, talk, talk, talk." His eyes are dark as he looks down at her. "Some of it was pretty interesting, though. I'm sorry I missed the aliens."

"I wish you'd been there." The confession hangs in the air a moment, and Sara, taking a deep breath, makes a decision.

"If you think you being back in Central City would cause Mick to leave the Waverider, would cause Lisa to go back to a life of crime, why don't you just come back on board?" she says casually, looking up at him. "We… I… the team… could use you."

She almost expects some innuendo at that. Instead, she gets a sigh, and two words.

"I can't."

Her fingers tighten on black fabric again. "Why not?"

His hand comes up, fingers wrapping loosely about her wrist. "Because according to Harrison Wells, I am... what was the word?... just _lousy_ with temporal energy."

He nods at her intake of breath. "From the Time Force, I guess. Enough to well and truly fuck up any instruments that rely on it. Now, he thinks that will dissipate with time, but..." He shrugs. "I can't. Even Barry's Gideon thinks so."

"Wait. What?"

"You'll have to ask him about that." A smile lurks around his mouth, then drops away. "I'm sorry, Sara. This is all I get. For now."

They're leaving tomorrow. Leaving him behind, again. And although it helps immeasurably to know he's alive and here and whole…

Just one night.

So much she could say in that moment. She stares at him in the moonlight… and then says the second thing that pops into her head.

"Wanna crash a wedding?"


	5. When You Get Drunk, I'll Be the Wine

" _Is it crashing if you have an invitation?"_

" _Well…you didn't RSVP, right?"_

" _Nope." Leonard had smirked at her. "And I even have a plus-one."_

" _Seriously? How the hell did you rate that?"_

" _I have no idea. Thought I'd be too much of a threat at the singles table, I guess."_

" _Keep flattering yourself, Len."_

Sara, pulling her dress out of its bag back at the deserted STAR Labs, shakes her head, smiling at the memory. Leonard had seemed uncertain about her impulsive idea at first _("I don't want them to see me quite yet, Assassin…"_ ) but Sara's promised him there's a way of "attending" that will maintain his secret for the time being and yet give him the bragging rights to let Barry Allen know that he'd been there after all.

And the chance to see his sister, even if he doesn't speak to her quite yet.

 _"What do you mean, Lisa's back in town? She left right after Barry told her...told her..."_

 _"Cisco said she was getting in right before the wedding. He invited her, but only heard from her today. In hindsight, I think he probably wanted me to tell you."_

The dress isn't much the worse for wear for its time folded up in her duffel; Gideon, at this point, knows to create clothing that can stand up to most everything they can throw at it. Sara smooths the silky dark blue material out, smiling, then runs a hand through her hair before grabbing a brush out of her bag. She'd already taken a quick shower and if there's one bit of nonviolent, practical knowledge she'd retained from the League, it's how to quickly blend in with any given situation.

Like someone else she knows.

 _"You have a suit handy, Crook?"_

 _"Gotta be ready to fit into lots of different environments in my line of work, Assassin."_

 _"Good. Better if we blend in. Can you get us into STAR Labs? My dress is there."_

 _"What do_ you _think?"_

 _"I think we need to get going. There's not that much time left."_

When she steps out of the bathroom where she'd gotten dressed, Leonard is waiting there, leaning against the wall and looking too debonair for words in a midnight-blue suit and snowy white shirt. He straightens when he sees her, and the look in his eyes makes her really sorry she didn't go for the first option that had popped into her head earlier, when he'd said they had only one night.

It'd involved less crashing a wedding and more crashing... well... into a bed. Together. No clothing involved.

But, for all the flirting and innuendo and god-I-missed-you background tension of the past five hours, he hasn't brought up anything of the sort himself. No "you and me," no attempt at stealing a kiss. (She'd known, after all, that he was a hell of a thief.) Perhaps he's changed his mind. Perhaps something seen in the Time Force had changed it for him. Perhaps...

Perhaps she's thinking too much.

She'd swear the heat in his eyes isn't imagined, but "nice dress," is all he says.

"Nice suit." Her attention is caught by the tiny package, wrapped in gold paper, that he's flipping through the fingers of one hand. "What is... oh, no you didn't..."

He stops, and the package vanishes somewhere she can't see. The smirk, however, grows wider. "What?"

"You asshole." But there's no heat in the words, just a bit of grudging admiration. "You managed to grab something at the museum anyway, didn't you?"

"Maybe." Stepping forward, he smirks down into her eyes. "Nothing too valuable. Just big enough to make a point. Barry will return it with many apologies; no harm done."

"You," Sara informs him, poking him in the chest with a finger, "are a jerk. One that cleans up nicely, but... still." Poke. "Jerk."

One long-fingered hand snakes up and captures her finger, and hand, imprisoning them. "Mmm. You think so, do you?" His eyes are glinting as he looks down at her. Sara glares up at him, trying not to smile—or think too much about _the first option_.

She sees an odd expression cross his face, and he moves a little closer, tilting in head, bringing his face a little closer to her upturned one. There's a question in his voice as he says, "Sara..."

"Ahem."

Neither of them is used to being snuck up on. But Harrison Wells has managed it quite well.

Sara doesn't do anything as amateurish as _jump_ , and neither does Leonard. But they both step back—OK, a bit abruptly-and then turn to look at the man who's paused in the doorway to the Cortex.

Wells has a perfectly deadpan expression on his face as he stands there watching them. "Ms. Lance." He nods to her. "I see you've found our sometime-visitor, part-time pain in the ass." His gaze switches to Leonard. "And Mr. Snart. If you must persist in wandering around in here like you own the place, I'd appreciate it if you'd let Barry give you the key he keeps offering." There's a touch of asperity in the dry tone. "All this breaking and entering is hard on the security system."

"Well, I don't know. What fun is that?" To Sara's surprise, there's actually a touch of humor in Leonard's voice as he folds his arms and regards the other man. "Ditch the party so soon? Just couldn't take it anymore? I thought you told Barry you wouldn't bail."

"I'll have you know I came back here to check on an experiment that's running. And to make sure there were no intruders." The irony is heavy in his voice as he points at them. "And look! Intruders. Good thing I did."

Leonard snorts, unimpressed. "Not going back, then?"

Wells' expression shifts suddenly to uncomfortable. "I actually…promised Snow…that I would. So..." He rebounds, narrowing his eyes at Leonard before they flick over Sara and then back again.

"You know you can't go home yet," he tells the crook. "Not that I wouldn't be thrilled to dispense with resetting security three times a day—and I'd be extremely pleased never to hear another cold pun again."

Sara, startled, glances up at Leonard at Wells' use of the word "home"—apparently meaning the Waverider—and sees a moment of something vulnerable in his eyes again. And then it's gone, glossed over by a more usual look of cool amusement.

"It's more along the lines of…reconnaissance," he drawls. "Not to mention proving a point." The tiny gold package flickers through his fingers and vanishes again.

Wells notices it and closes his eyes in a give-me-strength expression that makes Sara smile—she's pretty sure she's seen the same look on Rip's face a time or three. But then he opens them again and sighs.

"Your sister's there, you know. And don't blame Cisco for not telling you; she apparently ignored his messages until the last minute." Another withering look. "Seems it runs in the family." He shakes his head and pulls a key ring out of his pocket. "Come on. I'll give you a ride. You'll have to find your own way wherever else you go, though."

He takes a few steps past them, then stops and lifts an eyebrow at their expressions. "What? You want to take motorcycles to this thing, mess up that dress? I won't spill your secret. Come on."

* * *

Harrison Wells' vehicle is a rather sharp vintage Mustang. Leonard stops and stares at it covetously until Sara nudges him in the back and sidles past him, dropping into the front passenger seat with a grin as Wells moves over to the driver's seat. (Len grudging takes the back.)

They snark at each other in an oddly companionable manner until the car arrives at the reception venue, Wells handing it over to the valet as Sara and Len slip out of the car and into the shadows.

Len vanishes nearly immediately, but Sara turns back to Wells.

"Why?"

He doesn't pretend to misunderstand her, pausing to drum his fingers on the roof of the car for just a moment while the valet waits impatiently.

"Because his... counterpart... where I'm from," he says finally, "he's a friend. And while both of them can be annoying, they're vastly less aggravating than the average run of the population on either Earth." A sigh. "And he'd want me to do this, for a couple of reasons, none of which I'm getting into right now. Now, are you going or not?"

She goes.

* * *

For someone who wasn't planning to crash a wedding tonight, Leonard unerringly finds his way to a back entrance—and has it unlocked by the time she's caught up to him. He rolls his eyes as she lifts an eyebrow at him, then shoves the door open with a shoulder, and they slip into a dark corridor in the building where the West-Allen wedding reception is taking place.

The reception is at a popular venue in the city, a hotel recently returned to its 1920s glory days by an entrepreneur. Sara can admit faint curiosity about the place, which she knows only from Barry and Iris's descriptions (and a few photos) earlier in the day, but the pertinent details have little to do with architectural history or intricate detail.

"Tell me you didn't case this place pretty well before tonight," she whispers to Leonard as they stand there, far too close, letting their eyes grow accustomed to the light level.

Even in the dark hall, she can see the smirk touch Leonard's lips. "Can't tell you that." A shrug, and he actually moves a tiny bit closer. "Of course I did. I know the floor plan, if that's what you're asking. Planned to leave their 'gift' on the table with no one the wiser, just to tweak Allen's tail." She can see the frown, too. "I didn't know about Lisa. So that's just as well. She _would_ have seen me."

Sara smiles at the pride in his voice. "How _are_ you going to get their 'gift' to the ballroom now?" she asks with curiosity. "Since you went to such trouble to get it."

"Planted it on Wells." He flashes her a real smile at her quiet groan. "When he finds it in his pocket, he'll roll his eyes but deposit it on the table, and I'll get the credit." He leans toward her. "Half of being a good crook is knowing people and how they'll react."

There's just a touch of that damn-sexy drawl in his voice with that line and he is, indeed, very close. She can't help but wonder, as she tilts her head back a little, if he knows how she's reacting: the increased heartbeat, the prickle down her spine, the flood of warmth...

But... "Same," she assures him blithely as she turns and starts down the hall, leaving him to catch himself and start after her, "with being a good assassin. C'mon."

She hears the faint _huff_ of a laugh, and smiles as he catches up. They move silently down the hallway, making the right turns in unison, heading out of the administrative section and toward the main part of the hotel. Sara can hear faint movement, the even fainter sound of voices, and knows that Leonard can, too, from the way his steps slow just a little, pace becoming a little less deliberate.

After a second, she reaches out and twines her fingers with his as the pace modulates to a stroll.

"Since we're getting close to the sections where there might actually be staff right now," she explains to the expression she's not looking at, but knows is there. "If we're busted, we can always claim that we went looking for a little...privacy..."

Silence. Then: "Gotcha."

* * *

 _"Same...with being a good assassin."_

There's part of Leonard Snart that fervently hopes Sara Lance isn't quite as good at knowing people and their reactions as she claims, despite evidence to the contrary.

Because if she has any idea how he's reacting to her, in that dress, in this situation….oh, he is in a world of trouble. Especially since _that_ vision is hovering on the edges of his memory, triggered again by...

Leonard takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, trying to be unobtrusive about it, and wonders again about the way the Time Force works. Is he supposed to be trying to make those visions happen? He's been trying to, simply because of the promise inherent in them—or at least trying not to actively work against them.

The first two he remembers that featured Sara...he wants them both so intensely, in different ways, that it almost hurts to think about it. If the second still seems somewhat further off, well, the first seems to be imminent. And extremely distracting. And he still needs to keep his head in the game here.

He takes another deep breath, feels Sara's strong, warm fingers give his a squeeze, and determinedly thinks of ice.

(The third...he'll do almost anything to prevent. But he's not going to think about that one right now.)

* * *

Sara's not entirely sure why a bit of innocent (OK, semi-innocent) handholding seems to be causing Leonard to need to catch his breath, but she just can't seem to resist having a little bit of fun with him, occasionally swiping the pad of her thumb across his palm in a caress, or loosening her grip so she can ran her fingers up and down his.

She thinks she can safely say, now, that he is, indeed, still interested. So the question reminds: What to do next?

 _Keep your head in the game, Sara._

"They're in the Golden Ballroom, but you probably knew that," she tells him, turning down another corridor. "Ollie about had a—to use my dad's word—conniption when he heard about the balcony. Said it was too much of a security risk. Barry laughed at him, but promised it'd be locked up and screened off."

She can hear his _hmmm_ of pleased surprise. "Hadn't heard that tidbit," he admits. "I'd dismissed the balcony for anything. Too open."

"Well, since you've already planted the present, we're just using it to get you a look at your sister. And enough intel on the party that you can hold it over Barry's head later, that you were here and he didn't see you. I'm considering it my revenge." She stops, then, and looks at him. "I know we're getting closer to the ballroom. You know where the stairwell is? Didn't figure the locks would stop _you_."

"You know how to flatter a guy, Canary." Leonard stands stock-still for a moment, eyes moving from side to side, then nods and—tugging gently on her hand—continues down the corridor. The sound of voices gets louder, and so does the sound of music. It's not dark anymore, in this section, and they're both on high alert for employees—or worse, lost wedding guests who might know them. Sara puts a touch of a wobble in her step, the better to play tipsy guest if necessary, and after a moment she feels Len move his hand up her arm, cupping her elbow, the image of a solicitous date.

She smiles, and makes sure she leans a little more into him as she stumbles, aware of the slightly more rapid breathing, the brief feel of his quickened pulse, all the tiny signs of attraction that even someone notorious for a chilly persona shows. She's almost forgotten how much she enjoys this game, the banter and the flirtation, the potential in the air with someone who is, in so many ways, an equal.

Yes, she's made a decision at some point tonight. Now she just has to find a way to follow through on it.

Within a minute or so, Leonard stops at an unmarked door that's close indeed to the ballroom itself—Sara thinks she can hear voices she knows, Felicity's laughter, the raised voices as Ray and Nate arguing happily about something. She can feel Len looking at her, and thinks she can guess pretty accurately what he's thinking: she could be in there, enjoying the party, instead of out here with him.

But after a moment, he turns to the lock, and she leans against him, blocking those clever hands from view and, incidentally, running a hand up under his jacket to trail along his back, feeling the warmth radiating through that fine white shirt, listening to another catch in his breath.

She hasn't had so much as a sip from the open bar tonight, but she feels almost as tipsy as she's acting, inhibitions slipping away under the pressure of _just one night_ , and the thrill of what they're doing.

She doesn't count, but it doesn't take long. The lock clicks and he has the door open in seconds, pulling her into the stairway with him and shutting it swiftly behind them.

They stare at each other...and then even Leonard snorts in laughter, the adrenaline and the craziness of this caper given voice in the quiet sound. Sara's amusement actually bubbles over in a giggle, which she muffles in the shoulder of Leonard's suit coat, feeling him tense and then relax at the contact. For just a second, he puts his arms around her...then seems to remember where they are, and they fall away.

They move up the stairs quietly—because of course they both wore shoes suitable for breaking and entering, even with the rest of their formal wear. The door at the top is locked as well, but this one barely stops Leonard for a minute before there's a click and they're moving onward into the dark space overlooking the ballroom.

It is, indeed, deserted, and there are tall screens blocking most of the view to the space below. Leonard takes a step toward them, looking back at her, and she joins him in walking quietly to the nearest two, where there's just enough of a crack to allow a careful intruder to look out and down.

The DJ is playing something fast and danceable, a song Sara doesn't know—price of spending most of her days in a time ship where the newest hits have no particular meaning. There are still a lot of people even this late at the West-Allen wedding reception, and at least some of them seem to agree with her assessment, given the group on the dance floor.

She stifles a squeak of amusement at the sight of Cisco and what he considers dancing, and another one at Ray and Nate—the three of them apparently have no collective sense of rhythm. Felicity, Thea, and Iris in her wedding dress are dancing too, with a good bit more grace and a great deal more rhythm.

Harrison Wells has made it back to his table, where he sits, leaning forward to talk intently to a tense-looking, white-haired woman Sara knew as Caitlin and now knows as simply "Snow." The three Steins, Martin, Clarissa and Lily, are sitting together, talking companionably, and it makes Sara smile. Barry, looking quite thoroughly happy, is chatting with Oliver, who looks a good bit less grim than usual.

Leonard makes a faint noise, and Sara turns her attention to the reason they're there.

She looks nothing like Leonard, but Sara's seen pictures, and she picks out Lisa Snart without too much trouble. The other woman is sitting at a table, talking to Jax, of all people, and if there's a visible sadness in her eyes, it's not too apparent from their awkward vantage point.

"Her hair's short," Leonard observes, nearly inaudibly and in an odd tone. "She cut it."

"Hmm. Cute," Sara observes, grinning at him in expectation of a glare. But he looks at her with almost a stricken expression, and shakes his head.

"In the Time Force. When I saw her," Leonard breathes. "She looks just like that now, right down to that little bit that's too short, there on the left." He makes a gesture vaguely to where bangs would be on himself. "She walked into one of our safe houses, in the vision, and I was waiting for her. So it has to be close." He takes another deep breath, lets it out, then takes one more look at his sister and backs away from the edge, moving back to the depths of the shadows. "I can tell her. Soon."

There's emotion in his voice, genuine emotion, and Sara moves closer, putting a hand on his arm, all too aware that even as a bit more of his future crystalizes, it's not a future—yet-in which she'll have a part.

"Thank you," he tells her, again in that odd tone, "for this crazy idea. I might have left town tonight... might have not even stayed here at all; I told Barry I was going to, though he obviously didn't believe me."

Down in the ballroom, the DJ makes some sort of announcement about slowing things down and going back to the '80s, but Sara's barely listening to him, even as the sound of a Bon Jovi song rises around them.

"Well, Barry's no dummy," she tells him lightly, trying to bring a bit of the earlier playfulness back to the evening. "He knew you wouldn't if there was any chance you could put one over on him—even if he wound up putting one over on both of us."

It works. She can just see Leonard shaking his head ruefully, the edge of his smirk as he glances at her, then back out at the ballroom.

"Allen," he muses. "I should learn to stop underestimating him. One of these days."

"It can be easy to do," Sara banters back. "These shiny hero types...we both know how they can be." She smiles. "Compared to tarnished heroes like us."

Another quiet huff of laughter, but for once, he doesn't take offense at the word. Maybe it's because of the qualifier; maybe it's because she's put them together in a category of their own. They study each other, yet again, for what feels like the millionth time that night, crook and assassin, there in their own little world.

Then Sara takes her own deep breath and, listening to the music, repeats an offer first made years and worlds ago:

"So, you wanna dance, Leonard?"


	6. I Want to Be the Air for You

_"So, you wanna dance, Leonard?"_

Leonard looks back at her, and after a moment, the surprised expression is replaced by a familiar spark, a more familiar smirk...and an unfamiliar answer.

"Why not?" he drawls, taking a step forward and holding out a hand to her. "Been waiting long enough."

 _You say you've cried a thousand rivers_  
 _And now you're swimming for the shore_

The Leonard she'd just met back when she'd first asked that question would never have pulled her as close as this one now does, would never have allowed their bodies to fit together as well as they do now, or put his arms around her almost possessively. For her part, Sara runs her hands along his back before she arranges her arms around his shoulders, there in the darkness of the balcony, music rising from below where the other heroes dance in the light.

 _You left me drowning in my tears_  
 _And you won't save me anymore_  
 _I'm praying to God you'll give me one more chance girl_

"Fitting," she almost thinks she hears him murmur, but she's not sure, and she's not going to ask. Instead, she just puts her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

 _I'll be there for you, these five words I swear to you_  
 _When you breathe, I want to be the air for you_  
 _I'll be there for you_

She thinks she hears Leonard chuckle. "Were you even born when this song was released?" he whispers into her hair. Sara, still marveling at how they're fitting together...and how distracting it is...declines to answer.

She's not sure he'd want to know that she was 2, anyway.

 _I'd live and I'd die for you_  
 _I'd steal the sun from the sky for you_  
 _Words can't say what love can do_  
 _I'll be there for you_

They're barely moving, really, just swaying together like something out of a high school dance, and Sara's managed to snake her arms up under his suit coat, resting her hands against the warmth of a nicely muscled back. His hands, she thinks with amusement, have drifted down, and if they go much lower, she's going to be obliged to punch him or kiss him.

She knows which option she'd prefer.

* * *

 _I know you know we've had some good times_  
 _Now they have their own hiding place_  
 _Well I can promise you tomorrow_  
 _But I can't buy back yesterday_

This whole thing feels surreal.

But Leonard isn't in the mood to question it, really. There was no way he'd been about to decline the offer of a dance again, and now Sara is warm and strong in his arms, tilting her head back so he can see the glint in her eyes.

"I'm still mad at you," she says quietly to him. "For not telling us you were back, but also for being an idiot hero. Back at the Oculus."

For all the sentiment, though, she slowly runs a hand down his spine again, and he nearly loses track of his response.

"Mmm. I didn't have much time to make the decision," he tells her. "Couldn't leave either of you to die." He takes a breath. "I regret not being there for… so much. And that you had to deal with my asshole former self. But still can't regret the decision."

"Hmmm." Sara eyes him a moment, then smiles. "Well. Guess you get a second chance."

"At life?" he drawls, trying to grasp a little more control of the situation. They're really not moving at all anymore, just standing there holding each other.

"And…other things."

 _And baby you know my hands are dirty_  
 _But I wanted to be your Valentine_  
 _I'll be the water when you get thirsty, baby_  
 _When you get drunk, I'll be the wine_

* * *

Sara's starting to get tired of waiting. She stills her hands on Leonard's back, looking up, then sighs.

"You _idiot_ ," she tells him, exasperation and fondness in her tone. "I always _thought_ you were a hell…"

But there's a long-fingered hand curving around the back of her head, now, and Leonard's mouth is suddenly on hers, his other hand resting on her hip, pulling her even closer as she gasps.

For a long moment, it's a fairly innocent kiss, a tentative one, lips soft against lips, as if it takes them both a moment to realize what they're doing, that it's finally happening, that there's no Oculus here now, nothing to keep them from….

They both deepen the kiss in unison, Sara tilting her head as she rises up on her toes, hands grabbing fistfuls of Leonard's shirt even his hands tangle in her hair. Sara can't help a moan as his teeth graze her bottom lip; she feels his fingers tighten involuntarily at the exhalation.

Things are just starting to get serious when they are, inevitably, interrupted.

* * *

Leonard sees the flicker of Speed Force energy through closed eyelids and sighs to himself, opening his eyes even as he tries to figure out how they're going to wiggle out of this.

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, _whoa_!" Barry Allen, still in his tux with a scarlet rose pinned to his lapel, skids to a stop in front of them, throwing his hands up in front of his eyes as if he'd seen more than a kiss that was only starting to get somewhat steamy. " _Snart_? Sara? Uuhhh..."

With another sigh, Leonard breaks the kiss, smirking a little at Sara's growl and the bloody glare she directs at Barry, who takes a step back involuntarily before looking toward the stairway.

"Look, Oliver's behind me; he insisted he saw something up here," he tells them in a loud whisper. "So... uh… get under cover, OK? I'll tell him no one's here and distract him if I can, but..."

He gives them a beleaguered glance again and shakes his head.

"Seriously?" he repeats. " _Here_? You couldn't find somewhere better to do this?"

With those parting words, he turns and flashes away. Leonard turns, too, casting about for a hiding space, then grabs Sara's hand and pulls her toward another door in the corner of the room. It's unlocked, and Sara steps past him, diving inside first and turning to drag him in after her. He pulls the door shut behind them, then pauses in the pitch-black space to listen for voices on the balcony.

Or at least he would have, if Sara hadn't decided that enough was enough.

Her hands hit his shoulders, sliding the suit coat off them before she pushes him not-quite-roughly up against the wall in the tiny storage space, goes up on her toes again and wraps both hands around the back of his head, nails digging into his scalp, pulling his month down to hers in a kiss that's probably best described, he thinks, as fierce.

After a startled millisecond, he responds, wrapping his arms around her, returning the kiss for a long, heated moment before spinning them both around and boosting her up, bracing her back against the wall so she can hook an leg around his waist. That move brings them even closer than before, and she moves purposefully against him as she brings her other leg up around his hip, drawing a strangled noise from his throat as he moves an arm to slid a hand under her knee.

And just like that, another vision seen and felt in the Time Force comes true.

He's tried to retain every little detail for so long: the scent of her perfume, sandalwood and cinnamon, rising around him; the silky feel of her dress –and skin-under his hands; the taste of her mouth on his; even the faint sound of voices outside their little hidey hole. It's almost difficult to believe he's not going to wake up in a lonely bed with those sensations fading, as he gasps her name like the fool she's turned him into.

No, a little voice points out in the far corner of his brain that's still functioning. He's going to wake up in a far more real and painful manner all too soon.

He ignores it, tangling a hand in her hair and moving his mouth to her neck, a move that draws a rather satisfying noise.

They might have been there hours, but it's probably more like minutes when Sara places a hand flat against his chest and pushes, just a little, and they both sigh as he slowly lowers her feet to the floor.

Sara leans against him even after that, though, and he tilts his head down to her as she raises her eyes to his.

"They're gone," she breathes. "Think it's safe?"

He listens a moment, then shrugs, takes her hand again, and returns her gaze. Sara smirks, and after a second, they both move out of the storage room into the, yes, empty balcony, through the top door, down the stairs and out the bottom door.

At this point, they're pretty much running, still hand in hand, and Sara starts laughing, a sound with an edge of giddiness to it. They pass a startled waiter as they pass as close as they get to the ballroom, but he doesn't follow them, and after a few moments retracing their way through the maze of corridors, they stagger to a stop back out on the street, safely away from the main entrance and blinking in the illumination from a streetlight.

Sara's hair is in disarray, as is the neckline of her dress, and her eye makeup is smudged badly. She grins at him—her lips are swollen—as he glances down as himself, noting the lipstick on his shirt collar (god only know what his face looks like) and that at least three buttons on his shirt are undone. (He doesn't even remember her doing that.)

They look like they've been doing—precisely what they've been doing.

Leonard can't keep the smile from crossing his face as he looks at her, and the mischievous look on Sara's face softens as she sees it. She stretches to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, then lifts her mouth to his ear.

"It's midnight," she says softly. "Reception's over. We should probably get off the street."

Their bikes—and Sara's change of clothes—are back at STAR Labs. But the odds of Team Flash—well, everyone but Barry and Iris, anyway—going back there to rehash the wedding and festivities is high, and...

And that's not what he wants to do, anyway.

"When do you have to go back?" he asks abruptly. "To the ship. How long?"

"I told the others not to bother until late morning. I figured I'd go back to the Waverider to check on things, but I don't...really have to." She studies him, a tiny smile touching her lips again. "Why?"

"I have a safe house near here, a newish one. Needed something Mick and Lisa didn't know about. It's not much, but..."

She grabs his hand. "C'mon."

"Sara, you don't know where it is."

"So tell me already."

* * *

 _ **Ten hours later**_

Mick can't say he's really surprised when Sara's the first one back to the ship in the morning. She takes her duties as captain seriously, and he'd gotten the distinct impression she hadn't really wanted to take part in all the wedding hullaballoo anyway. (As shown by her quick agreement to patrol the city instead.)

But there'd been something odd in her voice when she'd signed off the comm last night, and so he'd wondered, just a little, if she'd found someone to, err, pass some time with while on her patrol. In fact, knowing Sara's penchant for slightly bad boys and girls, he runs down a quick list of the Rogues in his head, wondering who might be in town, then sighs, knowing they'd probably all scattered when...

He shakes his head, then jerks his musings back to happier thoughts as he leans against a tree outside the shielded Waverider and waits for the team to trickle back to the ship. He has a number of them now, he thinks as he recalls (with an air of pleasant disbelief) the previous night. Who'd ever have thought...

Sara moves into sight, then, strolling around the corner of the derelict warehouse that's screening the site from curious eyes. Mick notes her, then straightens, frowning. She's smiling, he can see that from here, but...

Sara Lance is humming. Happily. Some song that tickles at the edges of his memory from way back, like, maybe the godforsaken '80s? And she's dressed in a man's shirt that's much too big for her and a...hell, is that a _kilt_? As she draws closer, Mick peers at it, frowning, then realizes where he's staring (and that Sara has knives) and quickly lifts his eyes back to her face.

To his surprise, Sara's paused, looking at him with a faint, fond smile on her face, one tinged with what almost be...regret? Mick Rory will be the first person to acknowledge he's not that good with emotional crap, but that's really the best word he can come up with for it.

"I'm the first one back?" she asks casually, studying him and apparently perfectly at ease with her odd mix of clothing.

"Uh huh." Mick shifts a bit uncomfortably, then catches himself. "Haircut called in last night to remind us again they wouldn't be back until morning; he was pretty toasted. And I know Stein likes the time with his wife, and… so, what the hell happened to you?"

Sara just smiles again, and leans up against the tree next to him, looking back the way she came. "Oh. Let's just say I ran into a… friend. It's a bit complicated. But… never mind me." She gives him a look sparkling with mischief. "Now, is Amaya still in bed?"

The Boss had tried for years to get him to think before he spoke. It never quite took. "Don' think so," he says before he thinks. "She wanted to get ready and back to her room before… oh, shit."

Sara just laughs, though, and doesn't say anything more. She stares at the city, and Mick stares too, thinking about past, and present, and future.

"It's weird," he says, after a moment. "S'place used to be home. Ship is now. But I still… well, I still sort of wanna make sure it's OK. For _him_. Silly, huh?"

Sara doesn't laugh, though. She squeezes his arm, instead, and he realizes that… oh, yeah, she gets it.

"We'll be back before too long, Mick," she says wistfully, staring at the city. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

" _I do know we'll meet again."_

 _Sara, who's been staring at the patterns made by the sunlight filtering through the tiny crack of a window and trying to find more excuses not to leave, tilts her head back at Len's quiet words, trying to see his expression._

 _She'd woken tucked up against his shoulder, legs still entwined with his, warm and cozy and, OK, sated. Neither of them had gotten much sleep, but she's as content as she can remember being, and she doesn't particularly want to move or think about what's next._

" _Pardon?"_

" _I wasn't, strictly speaking, telling the truth when I said I didn't see you in the Time Force at all," he says, staring at the ceiling. "I did… a … couple of times." He turns his head and she sees the gleam of his eyes. "Last night, the first vision came true."_

" _Last night? What… oh, you jerk," she says with feeling, poking him in the ribs as he wheezes in laughter. "You knew? That we…"_

" _Ow!" He captured her hand in his as she moves to poke him again, rolling over a little so they're face to face. "It wasn't quite what you're thinking."_

" _Mmm." She can't quite manage to be angry with him, not now, not here, and what's more, she believes him. So she tilts her head up to kiss him again, and they lose a few minutes in that, desire rising, threatening to pull them both back in._

 _Leonard finally pulls back a little, a look of mock reproach on his face. "Seriously. And there…" A breath. "There was another vision." At Sara's expression, he continues. "We were fighting together. Back to back. You were in your White Canary get-up, I had the… a… cold gun. And we were in Central, battling some sort of robots."_

Robots? _"No indication of a timeline?"_

" _Nope. We look much as we do now." A smile tugs again at the edge of his mouth as he looks her up and down. "Well, maybe not_ now _…"_

 _She rolls her eyes and pillows her head back on his shoulder, looking up into ice-blue eyes. "So. Shouldn't be too much longer. And hopefully you can tell the others then. And maybe…" She dares. "… maybe you'll be OK to come back_ home _."_

 _Leonard doesn't answer, not in words. But he ducks his head and kisses her again… and maybe she can spare just a little more time._

* * *

It takes all Leonard has not to follow Sara back to the Waverider that morning.

But between the chances Mick will see him, or that Gideon's sensors will, he knows he can't. He watches her leave, then lets out a long breath, leaning against the closed door and hating the twists of fate that keep him here.

And so. What next?

He's promised, grudgingly, to help Team Flash keep an eye on Central City during Barry's absence, and he means to keep his word. He'll make sure to make frequent visits to the safe house he saw in his vision of Lisa, just to make sure that meeting happens as it needs to. He'll stay here, in the city, waiting and watching for trouble (and robots) and hoping that one night, one day, he can go…home.

And he'll make sure, no matter what, that his third vision of Sara Lance never comes true.

No matter what it takes.

* * *

Author's Note: I have two sequels (Just One Day and Just One Life) planned.


End file.
